


Power? What Power?

by coatsandjumpers



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, Fluff, M/M, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Smut, hahaha i wrote porn again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coatsandjumpers/pseuds/coatsandjumpers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys wants nothing more than to climb to the top of Hyperion's corporate ladder. He's happy to do whatever Handsome Jack wants him to in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power? What Power?

Rhys was thirteen when he put up his first Handsome Jack poster. He remembers the way he’d put it up then huffed in satisfaction, sitting down on his bed and staring up at it for a good five minutes. It was like a physical manifestation of all of Rhys’s dreams; Jack was everything he aspired to be, and it seemed that just by looking at his face Rhys was one step closer to Jack’s charm and power. It took less than two years for his room to become completely papered with posters, Jack’s too-large grin everywhere. He knew that some of his friends gave him weird looks for it, side-eyed him and asked behind his back if he was “you know … _gay_ ”.

Rhys didn’t really care. It wasn’t like that, not really, although he certainly was guilty of more than a few jerk-off sessions with Jack in mind. No, it was more that the posters served as a constant reminder of what Rhys wanted to be. He hated his puppy dog eyes and average height and typical hair, hated how people instantly judged him as mild-mannered and nice. He craved power in the way he was sure Jack had when he was Rhys’s age. He just couldn’t do anything about it yet. Still, the last thing he saw every night before he closed his eyes and dreamt was Handsome Jack’s smiling face.

\---

“Shit!”

Rhys swears instinctively, his fingers already feeling the searing hot pain from the spilt coffee. A loud cough from nearby distracts him from his burnt hand, and he turns to see one of the upper executives (Matt? Mark? Mark.) looking extremely displeased and holding a tie freshly stained with Rhys’s coffee away from his white shirt.

“Next time you’re this careless, you’re fired. I have a meeting in ten minutes. Go grab my spare tie from my office and meet me outside the conference room. What’s your name again?”

Mark has taken off the stained tie and is now holding it out imperiously to Rhys.

“It’s Rhys.”

“Right, Ras. Why are you still standing here? Go get that tie.”

Rhys nods once and turns away, moving towards Mark’s office. _Asshole_ , Rhys thinks. _Mispronouncing my name on purpose, how petty can he be?_ Rhys had the misfortune of working under this particular exec. It’s only been a month since he started work, but he could already tell that Mark was a real bastard who loved making sure that everyone below him knew just how far below him they were. He had a reputation for sexual harassment in the workplace, although Hyperion apparently hadn’t taken any complaints against him seriously. Rhys hated him with a passion.

When he meets his boss outside the conference room, tie in hand, Mark grabs it from him without a thank you and waves him inside. Rhys normally hates attending these sort of meetings, because practically all the people talking are assholes and idiots. They always have him make coffee and take notes, as if he were nothing more than a glorified intern (which, at this point, was practically his job, if he’s being honest with himself). He expects this time to be no different, automatically beelining for the counter and resigning himself to making coffee.

Moments later, he almost burns himself for the second time that day when Handsome Jack walks through the door. Rhys pauses, staring more than is appropriate. Jack almost never comes to these meetings, and Rhys has never seen him in person before. He looks exactly like he does in all of Rhys’s posters, larger-than-life and powerful. As soon as Jack walks in, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, although Rhys can’t tell if that’s because Jack has such a presence about him or because it seems like everyone is holding their breath.

Jack has a reputation for being volatile, and Rhys knows the upper executives always get extra fidgety and nervous when he’s around. Rhys narrowly avoids rolling his eyes when Mark says good morning to Jack in a tone that is clearly meant to be charming but really feels faintly repulsive. Maybe Rhys is biased. Everything Mark does feels faintly repulsive to him. Right now though, Mark is unimportant. Rhys is focused on Handsome Jack, and after he finishes serving coffee to everyone else, he pauses at Jack’s right, coffeepot hovering over the white Hyperion-issued mug in a silent question.

Jack looks up at Rhys, his eyes lingering on him. “I’d love some coffee.”

Rhys starts pouring.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Jack says. “So is this all you do around here? Make coffee? Is that what we’re paying you for?” Jack sounds amused, and when Rhys meets his eyes, Jack’s lips are curved into a smirk. Rhys can feel his heart thudding against his ribcage, and he can feel the jealous eyes of his bosses boring into his back. He can’t believe he’s meeting Handsome Jack, actually seeing him right here in front of him, but Rhys is fuming at the fact that he clearly comes off as some sort of idiotic intern who can’t do anything more complicated than make coffee.

He can’t say anything in front of all of the other executives though, especially not when Mark is in the room. So he settles for smirking too, and saying, “Seems that way. Hyperion’s money well spent, huh?”

Jack raises an eyebrow, momentarily surprised at Rhys’s less-than-polite answer. The room is quiet for a second too long. Then he laughs. “I like you, cupcake.”

Rhys smiles at the compliment and puts the coffee pot back on the counter before moving to take his seat next to Mark, about halfway down the conference table. The meeting proceeds, with each executive giving their financial report. A couple of assistants who hold about the same status as Rhys simply sit there mutely, eyes glazed over. Rhys, however, is all ears when Mark starts giving his quarterly report. He struggles to keep his face impassive as Mark’s irritatingly oily voice reads off the words that Rhys wrote. Writing these reports is the job of the bosses, of course, but Mark is lazy and frankly idiotic, so Rhys had been unsurprised when Mark tossed a couple of files at him and told him to get to work.

It rankles though, irritates him that Mark is the one who gets to talk during this meeting when he hasn’t done anything. Rhys fixates on a speck of dust on the table in front of him, keeping his face slightly lowered in case his emotions show. He looks up sharply when Mark finishes though, his anger and resentment towards his boss flaring when Jack says simply, “Nice work.”

Rhys feels the words echo in his head, and he can’t even appreciate the fact that _Handsome Jack_ has complimented his work, because he knows it doesn’t count for anything, not when Jack thinks it’s Mark who wrote the report. The rest of the meeting passes as a blur for Rhys. He can hear a low buzzing in his ears, and he manages to thoroughly tune out whatever everyone else is saying.

This kind of anger and jealousy is nothing new for Rhys. He’s used to the unfairness of corporate practice and is all too familiar with how terrible the bosses were. He often wonders how the hell Mark ever got to the position he’s in. As far as Rhys is concerned, he isn’t a whole lot smarter than your average monkey. With Handsome Jack here though, things are different. Rhys is painfully reminded of his posters, his dream to actually become something. It feels cruel that he spends half his days fetching coffee for people and the other half doing work he won’t even get credit for.

Handsome Jack is wrapping up the meeting when Rhys brings himself back to the present.

“Good work, people. Clint, I want you to talk to my secretary so we can talk more about the tech your group is working on.”

Rhys hears everyone in the room collectively exhale in relief. Jack can be unpredictable at these quarterly meetings, but all had gone well this time and he seemed to be happy with how things were running. People are getting up, pushing their chairs in and collecting their files off the table.

“Everyone’s free to go. Except you.” Jack points at Rhys before gesturing at him to move closer. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Rhys, sir.”

“Just call me Jack, pumpkin.” Rhys wonders why Jack bothered to ask what his name is since he never seems to use anything but general endearments.

By now, everyone has filed out of the room and the last intern shuts the door with a curious glance at the two of them. Rhys is incredibly conscious of the fact that he is alone with Jack.

“So, Rhysie. How come you didn’t mention that you wrote that report?”

Rhys’s eyebrows shoot upwards, and he stares at Jack for a few seconds. A couple moments more and he realizes that Jack _knows_. He feels suddenly lighter, and he smiles before saying, “I think Mark would’ve fired me if I confessed that in front of you.”

“You’re confessing it now.”

“Mark’s not here, is he? Besides, you’re the one who asked me about it. It’s not like Mark can blame me, and he sure as hell isn’t going to get mad at you.”

Jack laughs at that, leaning back and pushing his chair away from the table. He swivels to face Rhys directly, commenting, “I knew that Mark couldn’t have written that report. He’s been turning in nothing but bullshit for the past year. I highly doubted that he gained 60 IQ points in the last quarter, so it seemed most likely that Mark made you write that report for him.”

Rhys revels in Jack’s criticism of Mark. After a solid month of him making Rhys’s life a living hell, it’s incredibly satisfying to hear Jack thinks Mark is about as interesting as a fly on the wall.

“So you know Mark’s a dumbass. Why am I still here though?” Rhys isn’t sure why Jack has singled him out so completely. He could’ve sent a memo or an email, could’ve fired Mark and then replaced him easily enough without ever having to speak to Rhys directly. Hyperion’s CEO doesn’t exactly have time to spare chatting to every other assistant.

“Like I said, I like you kiddo. What do you say to taking a bit of a break from work? With me?”

Rhys stares. “Uh. Like a date?” He can’t help but let his incredulity bleed into his question. It’s nearly impossible to imagine Handsome Jack taking someone on a date. The mental image of Jack showing up at Rhys’s tiny apartment with roses is ludicrous, and Rhys tamps down on a snort.

Jack laughs again, throwing his head back. He’s still smiling when he says, “I don’t really do dates, sweetheart. I was thinking of something a little more immediate.”

Rhys’s eyes widen. He’s pretty sure the sexual harassment pamphlet he received a month ago was warning him against situations exactly like this. _Fuck that_ , Rhys thinks. This has been his (not so) secret fantasy for years. Still, though, Jack doesn’t need to know that, and he still has _some_ dignity, thank you very much.

“I’m not that easy, Jack. I just met you an hour ago.”

Jack looks supremely unperturbed at Rhys’s rejection. His smirk widens, and he nods knowingly.

“All right, pumpkin. Fine. I know you want to sleep with me, but I guess you’re still clinging to some kind of self-respect. So what do you want?”

Damn. Rhys figures he might not have hid how attracted he is to Jack that well after all. He’s also not entirely sure that Handsome Jack offering him whatever Rhys wants to fuck him is helping Rhys’s self-respect, because it feels dangerously close to that word beginning with a p and ending with an n, which Rhys really, really doesn’t want to think about, because he’s not going to sink that low.

He’ll think of it more as a business opportunity. Jack wants something from Rhys, something that Rhys, incidentally, really wants to give him. Jack’s offering more though, anything that Rhys wants. Win-win situation really. Rhys thinks about it for a second, and then blurts out the truth.

“Power.”

It sounds ridiculous the moment he says it, and Rhys can feel it, can also feel his face get hot as Jack starts chuckling. It’s the truth though, and it’s been the truth since Rhys was a teenager.

“This isn’t Game of Thrones, kid. But fine. You want power? You start working directly under me starting tomorrow. Anything else?”

Rhys pauses. He hadn’t thought it would be that easy. Working directly under Jack is better than he could have dreamed. He shakes his head.

“Good.” Jack seems pleased. “Is that settled, then?”

This time Rhys nods, and a silence falls on the room. For lack of a better word, Rhys would call it awkward, except that evokes horrifying high school memories of first times and fumblings better left forgotten. Jack seems content to just sit there and look at him, and Rhys feels himself squirm against the scrutiny.

He coughs once to break the silence, and then jokes, “So, how’s this going to work? I call you daddy and beg for you to fuck me?” Rhys rolls his eyes.

Jack looks at him levelly. “Yes, actually. That’s exactly how I want this to work.”

Rhys can’t help his initial surprise, but he’s not here to sit and twiddle his thumbs, he supposes. He’s as calm as Jack when he says, “So should we move this to your office?”

In an instant, Jack looks anything but serious, his expression playful and sly. “What’s wrong with this conference room?”

Rhys’s look is incredulous. “Jack, someone will see us. Or hear us.”

“So?” Jack looks utterly unconcerned. “Besides, Rhysie, don’t worry so much. The windows are tinted. As to someone hearing us, I guess you’ll just have to be quiet.”

Jack is enjoying himself, Rhys can tell. And Rhys knows it doesn’t matter even if someone does catch them. He’s got impunity so long as he’s with Jack. Rhys doesn’t give a shit about his coworkers, couldn’t care less about what they think of him. But he can’t help but hesitate at fucking the CEO of Hyperion in the damn conference room. Some of his reluctance must show in his face, because Jack comes closer, his hand forcing Rhys’s chin upwards so that he’s looking straight at Jack.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s doing you a favor, kiddo. So let’s do this on my terms, yeah?”

Jack’s voice goes up at the end, like it’s a question, but Rhys hears the implied command anyway. He nods, and when he swallows, he knows Jack can feel the movement against his hand. Jack lets go of Rhys and starts unbuttoning his shirt. A glance outside the conference room windows and Rhys can see all of his coworkers in their sad cubicles, eyes trained on their illuminated computer screens. Rhys knows that if they looked at the room, they’d see only darkened glass, but the proximity makes him nervous anyway, and it’s a couple more seconds before he follows Jack’s lead and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt.

It’s no time at all before their clothes are tossed on the floor in the corner, forgotten. Rhys shivers, and it suddenly hits him full force that he’s known Handsome Jack for all of an hour and they’re in the goddamn conference room, and this is insane, but then Jack’s right next to him and Rhys’s arms are around his neck, and they’re kissing, and Rhys stops shivering because he’s a little too distracted to notice the feel of anything except Jack’s lips. Rhys lets one of his hands trail down Jack’s back, feeling the muscles tense when he starts moving against Jack, precome from both of them making everything slick. Still, the friction is there and it’s intense, every instant of contact making Rhys moan. He’s always had a one-track mind, and his focus right now is thoroughly trained on Jack. His noises are getting increasingly loud, and he hears his voice break when Jack reaches a hand down and starts jerking both of them off.

“Shhh, cupcake.” Jack shushes him, dropping a light kiss on his temple. “I thought you were worried about people hearing us.”

Rhys is breathing heavily, and he feels flushed. He doesn’t even spare a glance towards the windows, instead just looking hazily at Jack. He dimly remembers the joke he made at the beginning of all this, just a couple minutes ago. Normally, he’d feel embarrassed about such things, but he’s too far gone for shame now, and he bucks into Jack’s hand, looking for more friction.

“Daddy, please.” The words come out as a high-pitched whine, and Rhys can see Jack’s pupils dilate. Jack pushes Rhys down none-too-gently on the conference table, but Rhys breaks the fall by landing on his elbows, the edge of the table already pressing into the back of his thighs. Jack backs up for a second, letting Rhys make himself as comfortable as he can while lying on a table. Rhys makes a confused noise when Jack leaves him to move quickly to the other side of the room though, rifling through his pockets. He understands a second later though, when Jack returns with two packets of lube.

It’s been a while since Rhys has done this, and he can’t deny that he feels a bit nervous, especially since it’s Handsome Jack. But his worries are short-lived, because Jack starts fingering him and Rhys loves the pressure of it, can’t help but think that it feels right, as though this, him and Jack, is just the way things should be. The lube is cold and two of Jack’s fingers are causing more of a burn than Rhys would like, but the discomfort is mixing with the pleasure in a way he’s pretty sure he likes, and Rhys can’t do much more than lie back and moan.

Jack drops kisses on Rhys’s collarbone, before sucking on his neck. There’s going to be a hickey, Rhys is sure of it. He arches against the light pain, Jack’s fingers shifting inside him in new ways that make him cry out.

“You like that, pumpkin? Does that feel good?”

Rhys nods, tacitly signaling his agreement. He feels shaky, his attention fractured between Jack’s lips and Jack’s voice and Jack’s fingers.

“Words, pumpkin. Use your words.”

“Yes, daddy. I-” Rhys’s own sharp intake of breath cuts him off, his back arching in a reflex as Jack finally hits his prostate. The pleasure is instantaneous and sweet, a bolt of intensity that leaves him aching for more. Jack slips another finger in and angles for Rhys’s prostate again, satisfied when Rhys cries out as he does.

“Jack, please, I need you.” Rhys knows Jack’s fingers aren’t enough, knows that he wants to feel Jack inside him.

“Yeah? How much do you need me, Rhysie? Are you going to beg?” Jack’s smirking, and Rhys knows that he’s teasing. He’s looking down at Rhys like he’s the most entertaining thing Jack’s seen all year, and he looks _amused_. Rhys moves against Jack’s fingers, trying to get Jack to do something, damn it, but it’s no use, and Rhys isn’t willing to wait much longer.

“Fuck me, daddy, please.”

Rhys looks up at Jack as he says it, and the reaction is instantaneous. Jack’s fingers still and pull out, and Rhys winces at the emptiness. He hears another packet of lube being opened, and a second later, he tries to relax as Jack starts pushing in. Despite Rhys’s impatience, it’s too much, and he closes his eyes, his body tensing against the discomfort. Soon though, he feels Jack lightly caressing his face, gently reassuring him.

“Relax for me, Rhysie, there’s a good boy.” Rhys takes a deep breath, and then Jack’s fully in him and Rhys is only faintly aware that he’s moaning and that Jack is saying something about how tight he is. Jack waits for only a few seconds before he starts moving, and Rhys is making broken-off “ah” noises with every thrust, his thighs slamming hard against the solid edge of the table. It’s sending dull spikes of pain through his legs, but he’s more focused on how Jack is moving inside him, on how every few seconds Jack angles just so, and Rhys throws his head back, the muscles in his neck straining as he shouts.

Jack is setting a brutal pace, and Rhys doesn’t try and move, just lets Jack fuck him. He can feel a familiar tension building though, and he can feel his need growing.

“I want you to touch me, daddy.” Rhys sounds wrecked, his voice hoarse. Jack doesn’t look all that much better, his usually impeccable hair mussed, his typical grin replaced by a desperate look.

“Why, cupcake, you want to come?” Jack’s voice is rougher too, but he still sounds cocky and in control. Rhys nods frantically, willing Jack to understand how much he wants him, how much he needs this.

“Alright, sweetheart. But when do you get to come?”

Rhys pauses, then answers, “After you, daddy.”

“That’s right, Rhysie.” He’s fucking Rhys faster now, and Rhys knows he’s close. His thrusts are becoming erratic, and when Rhys bites on Jack’s neck and moves his hips in time with Jack’s, he hears him moan, his movements stilling. After a few seconds, he can feel Jack’s come starting to trickle down his thighs, and he whimpers slightly, looking up at Jack, who’s starting to pull out. Jack nods in understanding, and finally puts his hand on Rhys’s cock, moving quickly. It takes only seconds before Rhys comes, the intensity momentarily whiting out his vision, his nails making dull noises on the wood as he scrabbles against the smooth table for purchase. Rhys comes down slowly, his reluctance to open his eyes making him feel sleepy.

When he does force himself to sit up though, he sees Jack starting to clean up with some napkins. Jack’s gentle, but the cloth is still too rough on Rhys’s sensitive skin, and he shivers. He eyes Jack a little warily, unsure of what’s supposed to happen next. Jack seems fully preoccupied with cleaning up though, and once he’s done with that, he starts dressing and smoothing down his hair. Rhys suddenly becomes conscious of the fact that he’s still naked, and he jumps up to grab his clothes.

Jack breaks the silence first. “How do you feel about making this a regular thing?”

Rhys isn’t sure how much of a choice he actually has, but he’s not about to say no anyway. “I’d like that, sir.”

“I told you to call me Jack, kiddo.” Jack’s grinning though, back to his usual self already. “But that’s good. I’ll see you outside my office first thing tomorrow morning.”

Rhys nods without looking at Jack, focused as he is on doing the last button of his shirt.

“Oh, and Rhys?”

This time Rhys looks up, his hands dropping to his sides. Jack’s holding a cup of coffee, one he must have poured from the pot Rhys made earlier for the quarterly meeting. He holds it out to Rhys.

“Do me a favor, pumpkin, and go pour this on Mark. Also, let him know he’s fired. If he’s not out of here by the end of today, I’ll oversee his exit personally. And trust me, he doesn’t want that.”

Rhys takes the cup and meets Jack’s eyes. He’s grinning too now, because there’s nothing quite like some good old-fashioned revenge, especially when it’s being facilitated by your new boss.

“Thanks, Jack.” Rhys feels weirdly nervous saying that, even though they just fucked on the conference table. He means it though, and he’s bold enough to kiss Jack briefly before he opens the conference room door. He knows there’s a hickey showing above his collar, can tell he’s going to be sore for the next week, and can feel half his co-workers staring at him and the other half of his co-workers avoiding eye contact at all cost (he’s pretty sure everyone just heard _everything_ that happened in that room). But as he heads towards Mark’s office for the second time that week, he realizes he’s never felt so powerful.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Having trouble writing a Jack/Rhys PWP? Here's the formula: Jack meets Rhys! Jack singles out Rhys because Rhys is special! Jack and Rhys fuck! Rhys gets hired so Jack can spend more time with him! You're welcome.
> 
> In other words, I'm total PWP trash, and I can't stop writing this PWP ship in different variations. 
> 
> (Wait! Throw me away! Friend, please write something so my number of fics doesn't look so incriminating, thanks.)


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